


Fall

by UltVisual



Series: Free [1]
Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Sometimes u just gotta read a bunch of overly critical articles about ur fave and suffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 19:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19235371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltVisual/pseuds/UltVisual
Summary: Junsik recieves a call





	Fall

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of 100T going 0-5 heres 1k of me going off on depressing tangents :,)

Junsik's just ended a game when his phone rings. Usually he mutes it while he's playing, but it's three am and his concentration's shot enough that he had forgotten to. He doubts it would have really made a difference to his performance even if it had rung in the middle of the game, he thinks as he stares at the glowing red defeat stamped across the monitor. With a sigh, Junsik exits the game and picks up the still buzzing phone. It's a korean number, he notes distractedly as he swipes a thumb across the screen to answer it.

"Junsik?"

The voice is unexpected enough that he nearly drops his phone. "Sanghyeok?"

"Did you forget my number already?" Sanghyeok asks. Junsik assumes it's supposed to be teasing, but the other boy's calm intonation makes it fall a little flat. Still, it's an uncharacteristic comment from Sanghyeok, and Junsik wonders if it's the new team's influence. Sometimes he forgets that time's moving along for everyone who's not still with him, that their lives march on without him as his does without them.

"Maybe I would remember if you called more often," Junsik says without malice. "Anyways, it's three am, I think i'm entitled to not immediately recognizing a phone number."

"Were you sleeping?" Sanghyeok asks, sounding apologetic. "Sorry if I woke you."

Junsik shrugs, then realizes the other boy can't see him. "Nah, I couldn't sleep anyways."

There's a lull in the conversation, a few faint clicks coming through from Sanghyeok's side. Junsik hears a reprimanding voice in the background, too faint for him to clearly decipher, and then Sanghyeok's voice, insisting that he's going to eat soon, yes, he knows that starving himself isn't going to make him a better player, yes, yes, he's just in the middle of a phone call, he'll be done in a moment.

"Yah, isn't it dinner time for you?" Junsik says, concerned despite himself. Sanghyeok's technically supposed to be a responsible adult who can take care of himself, but Junsik knows all too well the way that one skipped meal can become two, then three, the four, as the obsession to climb sets in. It only grows stronger the closer you are to the top.

"I'll eat later," Sanghyeok says dismissively. Junsik frowns, but doesn't press it, not wanting to spoil the rare conversation.

"When are you coming back?" Sanghyeok says abruptly. His voice is as calm as before, if not tinged with an odd emotion Junsik can't quite place. "You should come back. Korea is better."

The words are sharp enough that Junsik has to blink blankly at the slowly fading monitor for a second before he can reply.

"Is that why you called?" Junsik asks, disbelief creeping into his tone. "To tell me I'm doing a shitty job over here?"

Sanghyeok's frown is practically audible, even over the phone. "Not just you, your team."

"Seriously?" As bitter as Junsik feels, he can’t ignore the sliver of doubt that’s begun to lodge itself into him. It's not something that's been planted by this conversation, but rather a product of the strings of losses that have clawed at them all season, showing little sign of stopping any time soon. Junsik hates it. Hates that he doubts his team, hates that he doubts himself, hates the awkward glances exchanged between them after a loss as they edge around the words that they refuse to say. He hates the knowledge that even so far away, his old team mates, his friends, can see his fall with a simple click, like he's some pitiful creature for them to observe through the impersonality of screen. He's seen the articles, the comments about how it was about time that he left skt, that he was dragging them down, that skt only soared to the top on Sanghyeok's gilded wings. Deep down inside, in a darker place than Junsik cares to go, maybe he believes it, that Sanghyeok really is the only thing that ever let him go so high, that by daring to let go, gravity's taken a hold of him once more, Sanghyeok's shining star growing farther and farther away as Junsik desperately tries to resist the pull down. Maybe it is better to fall then to rise on someone else's wings, but when you're falling, it's hard to think of anything else than how to escape the impact below

It's inevitable though, isn't it?

Now, in the face of Sanghyeok's barely disguised pity, Junsik feels sick. As he stares down at the scratched plastic of the fake stage, a mockery of everything that slips farther and farther out of reach as the days go by, he wants to scream, to break something, to grab Sanghyeok by his skinny little shoulders and tell him that he doesn't want his fucking pity. Junsik is sick of it, sick of feeling like he's just another minion trailing behind Sanghyeok, sick of the other boy's effortless wins and victories.

Dimly, part of Junsik recognizes that it's not effortless. He's been there as Sanghyeok struggled, as he cried, as they abstained from sleep for hours on end just to get that one last win so they could convince themselves that they weren't just some one trick wonder who's name would slip away into obscurity as a new team tore the glory from their hands.

Yes, Junsik knows this. But it's little competition for the resentment and pain that claws at his chest. It's shame too, shame that in trying to prove that he could pull himself to the top, all he's done is fall, the distance between them stretching far longer than he ever thought it would.

"Did you ever think that maybe you're why I left?" Junsik says nastily, bitterness drenching his words. He regrets it the moment the words leave his mouth, but it's too late.

There's a long pause, silence deafening.

"I miss you," Sanghyeok says quietly.

Junsik's mouth drops open in shock, but before he can respond, Sanghyeok's ended the call. Junsik stabs at the recall button, but it shuts off after the first ring, a clear rejection.

Junsik [3:18]  
Sorry

Junsik pauses, then types out another message

Junsik [3:19]  
I didn’t mean it

The pale grey text of a read notification pops up, but Sanghyeok is silent. Junsik can picture the situation, his mind mapping out the familiar sight of the skt practice room, Sanghyeok sitting cross legged in his usual chair, a slight frown creasing his expression as he stares down at his phone.

Junsik shakes his head, banishing the image, and shuts off his phone before leaving his computer to go to his room. Once he’s there though, his eyes continue to stray back to his still silent phone. As Junsik sits in the dark room, he suddenly feels very small, loneliness settling over him. As nice as everyone is on Hundred Thieves, it’s not the same as Skt. Perhaps it’s just something that comes with time, but to Junsik, he feels unmoored, drifting away from the group ever so slowly, his grip on to any connection loosening until it threatens to fall from his hand completely. It’s not just him, he’s seen the way the other member’s eyes shift away when the coaches as them about synergy and what they need to improve. They all feel a little lost, the continuous failure only drawing them further and further away from each other.

Junsik wonders how Sanghyeok feels, if he feels the loss of his teammates as much as Junsik does at times like these. It’s different though he supposes, Sanghyeok’s never left Skt. A deep silence settles over the dark room as Junsik stares down at the dark screen.

Despite himself, a dim spark of hope still lingers in his chest, a desperate wish that Sanghyeok is still there for him.

No matter how long he waits though, there’s no response.


End file.
